I Really Admire Your Shoes
by Miss Hollow
Summary: War, during the American Revolution. Christmas fic.


I Really Admire Your Shoes  
  
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A bit of randomness in the mind of War. Christmasy in a way you may not quite expect.  
  
DICLAIMER: /me does not own War. /me does not own New Jersey. /me can claim the soldier-guy, but since he's more like one of Big Ted/Greivous Bodily Harm's ancestors, it may not be worth the bother to do so.  
Anyway. On to the ficlet.  
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I know: Let's wear bright red uniforms, only hold battles on open fields in broad daylight, and completely underestimate the enemy's ability to pull their act together. That sounds like a good way to spend a few years, doesn't it?  
  
Just because the Brits have the Best Bloody Navy in the World doesn't mean their army makes half as much sense. I know the whole broad-daylight-battles business is a European tradition, but it's not one that's well suited to American terrain (I thought they would have noticed that during the _last_ war), and the rest of it's their fault.  
  
I don't know where they got the idea to use red uniforms. I never once suggested that, mostly because as much as it's my signature color I know how badly it fits on a battlefield. Outside of the form of blood, of course.  
  
I guess it's the little things like that that make me want to give the patriots an edge after all. Originally I took one look at that ragtag bunch of not-really-soldiers and barely didn't laugh. But there's a lot to be said for Washington's leadership skills, and they've certainly got enough spirit to go through with this. Otherwise, they'd almost certainly not be regrouping at the moment.  
  
At the moment I'm at a Brit encampment... somewhere in New Jersey, I believe. They have for some reason decided the patriots won't attack them just because it's Christmas. Christmas! Why on earth would that stop the opposing forces?  
  
Oh, wait. Because it always has before. One thing I really don't like about Christmas is the way everyone's expected to stop fighting.  
Like I said, it's about time the patriots got an edge.  
  
Something rustles behind me; I think one of the soldiers is attempting to sneak up. He's already failed miserably (not that he stood a chance in the first), but I suppose it won't hurt to let him feel clever.  
  
There sumthin' wrong?  
  
Oh, not really, I reply, doing my best to keep him from getting interested. Just thinking.  
  
Thinkin'. I don't do that very often. Mus' be serious. I don't give and indication that it is or isn't, in the hopes that he'll give up and go away. Go on, you can tell Theo about it...  
  
Damn. This one's not even good with _non_-subtle hints! I guess I'll just pretend I'm talking to someone who'd understand it, then. Your lot have made some stupid mistakes, you know?  
  
Hey, don't blame nothin' on me...  
  
I wasn't. I'm just talking about the British army as a whole. The red uniforms, for example. Why did the ever decide to put people wearing a bright color in the last place you want people to wear a bright color?  
  
Might be, Theo replies slowly, that we're most always in the boats. Don't have to worry bout seein' people so much there.  
  
See, that's another thing. Nearly all the time and energy got put into the navy. That's understandable for an island nation, but... how much is it going to help you here?  
  
How come you know so much about runnin' the military?  
  
It's a valid question, given the attitude of humanity toward women and doing much of anything productive. Not that I plan on answering it straightly. I've been around.  
  
I think I've finally overloaded the git's brain. Perhaps now he'll leave me alone, and Pestilence will show up, and I can have a meaningful conversation with someone.  
  
Unfortunately, he doesn't plan on cooperating any time soon. ...Cor, whose side're you _on_, anyway?  
  
, I reply, smiling like a knife. No one's. I'm a side all my own. I support whoever I want.  
  
Wossat s'posed to mean?  
  
I'm not about to even try explaining it to him. He wouldn't get it; which is, naturally, why Pestilence ought to show up sometime today...  
  
My train of thought is interrupted by the sound of footsteps - a lot of them, too. It's probably the patriot army taking advantage of the Brits' stopping and sneaking up on them. They'll be a few miles off yet, so I've got enough time to chase this Theo character away. If I can just think of an effective way to-  
  
Got it! You know... I really admire your shoes.  
  
  
I love your shoes. Well, not really. There's not much to admire about muddy British-army-issue boots, though he doesn't have to know that. But as much as I admire your shoes, and as much as I'd love to own a pair just like them, I wouldn't want to be _in_ your shoes in this particular time and place.  
  
Right, now you've completely lost me.  
  
I stand, planning to find the best place to watch what's coming next. The approaching-army sounds are getting louder, not to mention wetter - they must have reached the river.  
  
While I don't normally endorse the holiday, this seems like a good year to do so. Finally, someone sees the advantage in fighting today. Merry Christmas, New Jersey.  
  
FINIS


End file.
